


A Knight to Remember

by LadyVader



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, First Time, M/M, Stripper!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVader/pseuds/LadyVader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin attends Gwen's hen night, and finds that the strippers are even more than he could hope for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Knight to Remember

(Notes: Warnings for Cracky Porn, barebacking, wrongful use of bodyglitter - in short THIS IS NOTHING BUT PORN PEOPLE, JUDGE NOT LEST YE BE JUDGED, K? :P These aren't my boyses, its just my brain doing rude things with other people's characters in honour of Cheryl Dyson's birthday <3 )

**~**

He didn’t know why he’d let Morgana talk him into this.

Merlin crossed his arms over his chest and forced a smile as yet another feather bedecked girl pressed herself (and her glitter spattered breasts) up against him drunkenly.

All Gwen’s friends _knew_ he was gay, hell half of them had attempted to set him up with their assorted brothers, cousins, workmates, flatmates, personal trainers etc but once a certain amount of _Flirtini’s_ had been consumed, it seemed they were all honour bound to push their tits in his face and try to convert him.

He gently pushed the latest of the many oestrogen dripping harpies from him with an agreement that _Yes, Gwen was SUPER LUCKY_ and she did, very definitely, look _just like an Angel_ in her dress.

The Hen night (though really, Merlin thought darkly, How the hell could it be called that when the torture had begun at 10am and still hadn’t let up 12 hours later?) had started early with the final fitting (and therefore viewing pre-wedding) of the dress, where he and 12 tearful, hormone addled women had clustered together to gaze wonderingly at Gwen in her bridal finery and reflect that, _Yes, Lance was going to be the happiest man alive_ when he saw her gliding towards him down the aisle.

Merlin had handed out tissues and teased them all mercilessly, glad of the distraction to keep his focus from the lump at the back of his throat.

He had known Gwen since he’d been tall enough to rest his chin on the wall between their gardens, smiling shyly from behind Gaius (his stepfather) when his mother and hers had noticed them making eyes at each other.

Morgana had come later.

Gwen and Merlin had been 10 and awkward when the Pendragon’s moved onto the road next to theirs and soon they’d marvelled at the haughty looking girl with thick black plaits to her waist, bicycling hands free up and down their street, blowing bright pink bubbles that never popped and caught in _her_ hair (Gwen had still never forgiven her this) and being otherwise irresistible.

It had taken two weekends of planning and mutterings of ‘ _No, YOU do it_ ’ before Gwen had shoved and poked Merlin up the Pendragon’s path to knock and ask quietly but determinedly if Morgana was coming out to play.

The mean, bigger boy had shut the door in Merlin’s face, thus cementing their relationship.  
Morgana pleaded with Uther (her godfather in the absence of her own, sadly departed parents) to be allowed to attend the same school as Merlin and Gwen and subsequently their duo blossomed into a trio that Merlin maintained was the reason he could never like girls, knowing them both as horribly well as he did.

Morgana was Gwen’s Maid of Honour, and had been in attendance for the last fitting, the shower, the lunch and the (erotic) chocolate making but had mysteriously disappeared immediately after the spa session, abandoning Merlin (and Gwen though she seemed happy enough, the traitor) to the final portion of the evening – cocktails and karaoke in the private lounge above the _Sorceress_ nightclub. Gwen had apparently given her the OK to bail but frankly, Merlin was less than pleased.

_“C’mon Merlin – it’ll be great fun, and as honorary bridesmaid-“_

_“BEST MAN!”_

_“-alright, Best Man then you bloody pedant... my point is you HAVE to be there. Trust me;  
you’ll have a great time...”_

Merlin’s lip curled at the memory of her batting her lashes at him and clinging, taking another, deeper swallow of his bloody, bastard _Flirtini_. (They were EXCELLENT but he’d take that realisation to his grave.)

His pocket vibrated suddenly then and, as if she had magically sensed his censure, a message from the evil party and friend abandoning witch herself came through.

**Don’t pout, it makes you look 14** \- he read and scowled heavily (manfully) instead – **I’m sorry I left, you’ll get why later and you can totally kiss my feet once you do. HAVE FUN! ;-P M x**

He rolled his eyes (a dizzying feat) and scoffed, arms squeezing him tightly as Gwen appeared at his side, leaning into him heavily and giggling – blissed out and long past tipsy.

“This is fun, right? I mean – you’re having fun? Cos its fun, y’know so you _should_ have fun – we never have fun now – I want you to have fun!” She beamed at him and Merlin squeezed her tight in return, laughing.

He loved it when she got trashed – it was like partying with a 5’6 fairy princess... who could belch the alphabet and told really, REALLY dirty jokes but a fairy nonetheless.

“I’m having fun.” He lied gaily, wishing fervently for his bed, his laptop and an ideally full mailbox from hot men who had read his ad on the gay singles site and had somehow sensed how _awesome_ he was despite his lack of picture and 15 inch cock. “Really, this is grand.”

Gwen let out a delighted shriek and squeezed him again, so hard Merlin briefly wondered if _Flirtini_ might spurt from his ears. “I’M SO GLAD!” She squealed into his ear, deafeningly, as the Pussycat Dolls started bleating about being Hot again, “and Morgana’s surprise should be here ANY MINUTE!”

She bounced up and down on Merlin’s toes but he didn’t really do more than flinch, frowning as he repeated, “Morgana’s Surprise?”

Gwen bounced more, clasping his hands excitedly. “I know, right? I CAN’T WAIT!”

He held her steady and matched her skewed gaze to his. “Gwen, Gwen... What Surprise?”

Her smile quadrupled (a scary feat as her smile had world swallowing qualities at even its dimmest setting) as a loud bang came from across the room, the door flying wide, resounding back against the wall as abruptly the lights dimmed, barring the sudden, retina searing spotlight focused on the imposing figure filling the doorway.

“I’M LOOKING FOR THE FUTURE MRS ELLIOT!” Came the bellow from the spotlight and, grinning in a fiendish manner that could _only_ have been learned from Morgana, Gwen stepped slightly forward from the shadows, waving vaguely and blushing even as she smirked.

“Well now,” drawled the stranger, stepping further into the room with a fiendish (and oddly familiar) grin of his own, tipping his Fireman’s hat over his laughing, half-masked and dashingly bearded face, “a little birdie called us and said you were soon to be single no more and therefore in _dire_ need of rescue... **HIT IT**!”

Merlin startled vaguely as the lights kicked back in, low and richer hues now, a disco ball appearing as if from nowhere as the music pounded, louder than it had been before, the rapid bass beat rocking up through Merlin’s soles as he laughed and grimaced, the instantly recognisable strains of Bonnie Tyler’s _I Need a Hero_ filling the room as the faux Fireman leapt forward to drag a shrieking and delighted Gwen close, more men pouring through the doorway – a soldier, a cowboy, a knight, a doctor and a policeman all bolting through to take up their seemingly allotted positions as _abruptlywonderfullysuddenly_ they ripped their outer layers free and began dancing, all hip thrusts and half masks and body glitter and Oh _GOD_ Merlin was going to buy Morgana DIAMONDS this Christmas.

Beaming ( _widely_ ) Merlin moved away from his long favoured position by the bar, leaning against one of the mid-room pillars, crossing his arms over his chest as he let his already _Flirtini_ warmed gaze run over the smorgasbord of rippling, oiled and rhythmically undulating male flesh before him, smiling lewdly as he tried to pick a favourite.

The Policeman (well – he had a hat, badge, shades, cuffs and truncheon so... _close enough_ ) was _tall_ , tall enough to swing from and Merlin dipped his chin appreciatively.

The doctor (white coat, white shorts and a stethoscope – _nice_ ) was interesting in terms of just how quickly he spun and thrust in place, the Knight had shoulders that _begged_ to be gnawed on (though frustratingly the crest, helmet and mail he still wore blocked almost all but his strong legs and arms), the Soldier was delightfully smeared with camouflage paint and the cowboy... well, he was wearing chaps and spurs, Merlin wasn’t sure he really needed more than that.

Grinning lasciviously as he took another _Flirtini_ from a passing waitress, he took a deep gulp and laughed at where the Fireman had pushed Gwen down into a chair, giving her a special, separate version of the main posse’s dance, smiling as he guided her hands over his body – lifting layer after layer of clothing from him 'til he wore nothing but boots, tight shorts (with braces still attached) his helmet and mask, that maddening, _familiar_ grin abruptly choking Merlin as his _Flirtini_ made itself known to his nasal pathways.

Gwaine.

_That_ was none other than bloody, sodding, brilliant, _CRAZY_ Gwaine – friend to all but in particular to Morgana’s ersatz brother, with whom he’d just gone into business... which meant...

Merlin turned his head in minute increments until (finally – _TOO SOON_ ) he was looking once more at the pivoting, thrusting – _oh dear GOD, was HE ACTUALLY STRIPPING?_ – figure of the Knight and, staring as recognition _rolled_ over him, spoke just one (sadly overloud) word.

_“ARTHUR?”_

Blue eyes (wide and horrified) behind his steel effect eye-mask, fixed upon Merlin just as the Knight (Arthur, oh god, _ARTHUR STRIPPING_ ) tore away the crest covering his chest, leaving him clad in seemingly nought but his leather boots and half-gloves, the barest drape of chainmail about his hips and throat, and Merlin, witnessing said spectacle of virility and glitter, could not help himself so, sagging against the pillar, Merlin laughed until he _wept_.

Arthur – Arthur of the towering, godlike form and ego to match, _ARTHUR_ who had slammed the door in Merlin’s face that first day when they were 10, who had attended the same rigid and lofty boarding school his Father had, leaving him as rigid in person for almost the entirety of the holidays spent with Morgana, Gwen and Merlin, never quite loosening up enough to have fun before returning to school again.

Arthur who, until recently, had been the apple of his Father’s eye, groomed to take on the Pendragon empire, only to ditch his MBA midway through to (horror of all horrors in Uther’s eyes) _find himself._

Arthur – freshly impoverished and seeking work with his rugby mate, Gwaine, work he wouldn’t tell the others about even as he interned and sought _meaning_ for his life.

Arthur – of whom Morgana was now so proud, who now attended their movie and takeaway nights and complained all the way through about Merlin’s taste, who punched the lout who’d sneered _Fag_ at Merlin when he’d worn his _OUT & PROUD_ t-shirt for Pride, who called Merlin a pathetic lightweight but then carried him home from Lance & Gwen’s engagement party and put him to bed.

Arthur who moved like _lightning_ and had Merlin pressed tight against the pillar with his body before he had chance to even realise the music had changed.

“Hello _Mer_ lin,” Arthur snarled as he snatched his helmet off, flinging it back into the crowd of giggling, shrill women, rolling his _ohgodslickandnearlynaked_ body against Merlin’s with a sort of menace that had Merlin swallowing deeply, unable to break the bold, blue gaze between them as Etta James’ frankly pornographic sounding version of _You Can Leave Your Hat On_ throbbed outwards from the speakers, “Think something’s _FUNNY_ do you?”

Merlin giggled.

He couldn’t help himself and Arthur’s sneer melted into an expression of stony fury and, before Merlin could do more than gulp back his laughter, Arthur had snatched away his glass and deposited it on a handily passing tray, seizing Merlin’s hands and placing them, _pressing them_ , to his chest as he arched and rolled his body before him, his black, leather-clad grip dragging them downwards as the undulating motion set the swathe of soft, silver mesh about Arthur’s neck swinging, the metallic material grazing the backs of Merlin’s splayed hands as Arthur drew them, unresisting, down his body.

Merlin made a strangled, desperate sound, unwittingly, as his fingertips flexed against the taut, shimmer-slicked flesh beneath them, dragging even as Arthur tangled them in the chainmail style material looped at his waist, concealing tight, black shorts below.

“No – no, nothing's funny _ahh_...” Merlin all but swallowed his tongue as Arthur deftly spun about, keeping Merlin’s fingers trapped and clutching desperately at his waist as the oiled and slightly sparkling blond arched and surged against him, his backside rubbing teasingly against Merlin’s thighs and groin, shoulders pushing against his chest as he rolled and flexed Merlin back against the pillar.

_Baby – yes, yes, yes_ , Etta crooned somewhere beyond the ridiculous slamming of Merlin's heart against his ribs and he echoed the sentiment fervently, wildly within him as Arthur span back, his hands braced high against the pillar as he shimmied and swayed his way back down Merlin’s body, cocking a brow above the silver mask as his hands slid down Merlin’s torso to rest on his wretched, traitorous hips that bucked (only ever so slightly, oh god – oh god, _SO UNFAIR_ ) directly as Arthur’s sneering _beautiful_ lips drew level with his crotch.

Slowly, twisting his hips _excruciatingly_ back and forth so that Merlin felt his head swaying, cobra like, hypnotised as Arthur licked his lips and dragged his body back up over Merlin’s quaking form, the contact only _just_ enough for his screaming nerve endings to register the press against them and, helplessly, his hands crept up from where they’d dropped, boneless, to his sides, sliding now up and over Arthur’s slippery, _FANTASTIC_ chest, set upon hooking his fingertips over the beautiful, blunt frame of his collarbone-

-only to find himself bereft of that hot, hard body pressed tightly to him, his wrists caught in a grip so firm as to be mistaken for manacles.

“The _Punters_ ,” Arthur said with bite and a smug air that would have made Merlin itch to punch him had he not wanted to _lick him_ quite so much, “May _NOT_ touch the merchandise unless expressly invited – which you are _Not_.”

He dropped Merlin’s hands and stepped further away, his own hands raised as his mouth twisted mockingly. “Such a pity as well because... _OH_.”

Blue eyes dropped low, the carefully cultivated expression of distaste and amusement melting away as surprise overrode them both, his gaze locked on what Merlin now realised had to be the _super obvious_ ridge of his erection, trapped and straining eagerly towards Arthur from behind his zipper.

Merlin’s gargled noise of horror had Arthur’s eyes blazing back to his, horror matched to gobsmacked shock and, as Arthur’s mouth began forming something Merlin could _already_ tell he would _NEVER_ want to hear, the Policeman’s hand fell, heavy, on Arthur’s shoulder and dragged him back, and away as the irresistible opening strains of _It’s Raining Men_ set the entirety of the room shrieking and bouncing in place as the strippers fell back into formation and Merlin _ran_.

He ran straight to the men’s room (thankful FINALLY that he was the only male party guest in attendance) and all but flung himself into a stall, slamming the door behind him and, panting; he ground his palms against his eyes and _groaned_.

“ _StupidstupidSTUPID_...” he berated himself and knocked his head backwards into the metal wall of the stall, trembling with his palms over his face as his blood boiled and bubbled beneath his skin, seething to be close to the man currently out gyrating for the dozen or so women _who aren’t the feeble FOOL he’s practically loathed since childhood and a BLOKE besides_... “ _Stupid_.” He concluded with a shudder, blushing and miserable and abruptly dizzy despite the bathrooms relatively cooler temperature.

Stumbling, he let himself out of the stall to stagger to the row of sparkling, purple glitter sinks, taking some comfort from the solidity of the wall as he buckled over, his forehead pressed to the cool tile as he ran, then splashed cool water repeatedly up into his face, only pausing when breathing past the choked, panicked lump in his throat and the water itself became an issue.

He pressed his shaking, water dripping palms to his face; elbows braced on the sinks edge and just _breathed_ , wishing he could crawl into a deep dark pit almost as much as he wished he could storm back out there, drag Arthur back up against that pillar and leave a trail of biting, hot, wet kisses up his inner thighs 'til he could mouth at the hot, hard length of him through those shorts and –

Merlin _moaned_ and pushed his hands back through his hair 'til he could cradle his skull and wonder vaguely why his brain, libido and sadly unflagging erection had all turned against him, before wincing as a loud blare of music ( _Hear the thunder, don’t you lose your head_ ) blasted through as the bathroom door swung briefly open, then closed with a decisive click.

_If ANY god is listening, I beg you – let that be a waiter, pleasePLEASE **PLEASE**_ , he chanted internally.

“Merlin.”

**GODDAMMIT.**

Slowly, Merlin straightened up, turning to face Arthur with his head held high, droplets of water streaking from his hair down his throat as he flushed and attempted to hold Arthur’s gaze, swallowing as he noted how his body sparkled and shone even moreso beneath the bathrooms harsher lighting.

“Shouldn’t you be out there _dancing_?” He rasped, as though nonchalance would distract from his still rigid and straining flesh, blinking confusedly as Arthur nodded jerkily and ground out a single syllable.

“Yes.”

_“Ye-_?” Merlin gaped and made as if to cover his face in disbelief over Arthur’s seeming sangfroid but then Arthur shot forward, seizing Merlin’s wrists in his still leather gloved grip, holding their arms out straight to either side of them, their chests straining together in staccato, uneven breaths as they stared, stunned, into one another’s eyes, each looking as shocked as they were aroused.

Merlin’s mouth worked, slow and silent as he struggled for something, _anything_ to say and then Arthur was pressing him back against the sinks and _GOD, was that_...?

Merlin whined, high and embarrassing in his throat as Arthur thrust his hips into his, the thick ridge of his cock distending his shorts and he was panting, _hard_ where Arthur pressed their faces together and muttered thickly, “Let me, ah _FUCK_ – let me, _let me_ Merlin...”

Merlin clenched his fingers in Arthur’s grip, shoving him backwards just enough to spin them both round, dragging them rapidly to the stall he’d just exited, never _even for a moment_ considering that this might possibly be the _worst_ idea ever because – really – ARTHUR, TOUCHING, LIKELY FUCKING... there was only so much temptation one drunken gay man could take.

“Yeah, C’mon, _C’mon_...” Merlin ground out, Arthur plastered along his back even as he clicked the door to, the lock catching stubbornly midway, Merlin’s fingers jerking at it as he whimpered in frustration, almost sobbing as Arthur rutted against him, mouth open and gasping at Merlin’s nape.

“Want, want to _fuck you_ , want it _so bad_...” Arthur bit and suckled at his throat and Merlin whined, pushing back into the steady jut and thrust of Arthur’s hips, warm leather stroking over his belly beneath his t-shirt as Arthur fumbled at his fly, yanking his jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh and sliding his cloth covered erection against the curve of Merlin’s now naked ass.

Grunting with exertion as they fought to push and shove Merlin’s jeans and underwear far enough down his legs that he could toe his way out of one trainer, yanking his foot free of both shoe and clothes, Arthur pushing one hand up high beneath his t-shirt to pinch his nipples, stroking and gripping his chest with his gloved hand, the other – bare now, _hot_ on Merlin’s skin – clenching hard on the back of his thigh, pushing his leg up 'til one knee braced against the wall, leaving Arthur with space enough to press himself in, tight and close and _groaning_ as the slick tip of his hard-on pushed high and past the waistband of his unbuttoned shorts, skidding and _slippery_ between Merlin’s cheeks and they moaned in unison.

“How – how do I – I’ve never...?” Arthur rasped and Merlin splayed his fingers against the cool metal wall before him and felt his own exposed, leaking cock twitch where it lay against his belly, precome seeping into the hem of his shirt, literally _shaking_ with want as the blond spoke directly against his skin, “...don’t want to hurt you.”

“You – you won’t,” Merlin managed, voice already a ravaged mess from biting back all the desperate, needy, _DIRTY_ things he was fighting not to say, “Just need lube – oil, slick, hand cream, _anything_ – I’ll be FINE, just _fucking get in me_!”

He bit his lips in horror as the groan of need rolled out without permission, almost sobbing as Arthur stepped back slightly, his hands falling away as he dipped and appeared to scrabbled down the side of one of his boots, jerking back upright with a triumphant snarl to set his teeth against the sharp curve of Merlin’s tilted jaw, pushing his now fully freed length up and through the crease between Merlin’s cheeks, friction making them each whine and sigh as he turned his mouth to growl softly into Merlin’s ear, “Got Oil, so... should I fucking get _in you_ now, _Mer_ lin?”

Merlin knew he should really insist on fingers first, fuck a bloody _kiss_ might have been nice along the way but he was already dripping and he could feel his hole twitch and spasm at just the thought of Arthur’s thick heat pounding into him and so he lifted a hand to clench it high and hard over the edge of the stall, spreading his thighs further as he felt Arthur’s broad palm renew its grip behind his knee and hold him open, ready for him.

“Slick it up,” he hissed, “and slide it in – _SLOWLY_.”

“ _Fuck_.” He heard Arthur sob thickly, clenching his eyes shut and licking his lips over and over in need as he listened to the wet squelch of Arthur squeezing lube of some sort onto his cock, the slick, meaty sound of it being spread over and up and down its length and Merlin rested his forehead against the wall and _waited_.

He tensed slightly as he felt a cold, thick nudge directly at his opening - _too hard too fast_ – before relaxing again as he felt Arthur circling his cockhead around his hole, barely grazing the clenching indent before easing himself (and the apparent _slop_ of oil) back and forth between his cheeks, prodding at Merlin’s tight, quivering balls before pulling back to smear his length up and through his cheeks 'til each of them were quivering and whining with need as Arthur’s shoves against his perineum set them writhing, Merlin pushing his hips back and whimpering each time Arthur’s hot, heavy head dragged over and into the rim of his hole, Arthur’s breath hissing through his clenched teeth so hard with every drag that he sounded as though he were all but snarling at the sensation.

Finally, on a well-timed stab of Arthur’s hips, Merlin shoved back just hard enough to catch and hold just the throbbing tip, _wet and wonderful_ , just inside him and _shaking_ he let himself beg, just once; “Arthur, Arthur _please... FUCK ME_.”

For a long moment there was nothing more than their harsh breaths panted between them and then _gently_ Merlin felt Arthur pushing deeper, felt his shivers of restraint at every point of contact between them and Merlin was so ridiculously _touched_ by such a show of chivalry, he found he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

Splaying his free palm forcefully against the stall, Merlin _shoved_ backwards and down, rolling his hips just _so_ to let Arthur simply _glide_ into him and if he was deafened from Arthur’s startled shout against his ear, he really couldn’t care less because every fibre of his being was centred where crisp curls and ruched material met the tender flesh where Arthur’s cock throbbed, fully seated within him, and it felt like fucking _bliss_.

“ _HOLY. SHIT._ ” Arthur not quite bleated against his skin and Merlin smiled, tremulous and smug as he clenched and carefully circled his hips, biting his lower lip in pleasure as the action dragged Arthur’s girth up against the tight clasp of nerve endings and muscles and the air whistled through Arthur’s teeth.

_C’mon_ he wanted to say, to chivvy him before his arrogance could resurface, _Fuck me hard, c’mon do it, DO IT_ but all he could quite manage (on a long breathless bloody moan of all things) was;

_“Arthur...”_

Before he had even a nanosecond to regret the reverence heavy in his tone, Arthur let out a snarl that sounded a lot like Merlin’s own name and, pulling back, began to slam into Merlin on long, deep thrusts that set the wall clattering as their joint weight met it again and again.

Arthur’s slick, sticky hand found a place at Merlin’s hip, his fingers gripping as best he could as he attempted to jerk Merlin back onto his rigid flesh as hard and quickly as he was ploughing into him, Merlin not really able to do much more than cling to the metal stall and keen, keeping his hips angled back, pushing back against the thrusts when and as best he could, startled to find he really was much louder when intoxicated – though, perhaps it was simply _Arthur_.

He shivered and arched his head back, wishing for possibly the 50th time that he had at least claimed a kiss from the man he’d been secretly not wanking to (honest) for years, moaning with abandon as he felt Arthur enthusiastically sucking marks into the skin of his throat.

Merlin bruised like a _peach_ and the knowledge that he’d have marks all over him that would actually prove this happened once he’d sobered up gave him a certain sense of freedom, like it wouldn’t matter how wantonly he rutted back and begged for it, because he could track Arthur’s own need for him (no matter how temporary it might be) in the fingerprints on his skin.

The slamming sounds were loud in the otherwise empty room and Merlin kept expecting the bar staff to come running in but instead there was only Arthur’s gasped profanities as he fucked Merlin harder and harder, the sweat from his brow trickling over Merlin’s skin as he turned his face into his throat and gasped for breath, his hand slipping down from his hip to twist Merlin’s t-shirt up and away before grasping, suddenly - _courageously_ even – for Merlin’s cock, twisting his partially closed fist about the head and eliciting a wild cry that Merlin felt he should have been ashamed by, had Arthur not currently been doing _that_ with his fist clenched just behind his bloody cockhead and it felt _BLOODY BRILLIANT and god oh god he only fucked GIRLS normally, it was like a fucking GIFT_ and –

Merlin cried out, Arthur’s fist stripping his cock in quick, clever jerks and he could feel his orgasm rolling up on him fast, _too fast_ and he opened his mouth to beg him to stop, to slow down because he just wasn’t ready to be done yet but still all he could cry was, _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur_ like he was his own personal saviour and, perhaps he was because he was doing _that_ again and fucking him with short, sharp thrusts and even as he finally burst out a single _ARTHUR PLEASE_ , it was all too late.

Merlin stiffened, head falling back over Arthur’s shoulder as he let his mouth fall wide, wordless sounds of ecstasy jerking from the depths of him as his body stuttered and _squeezed_ Arthur in its pleasure, sobbing as Arthur’s thrusts turned savage, his clutching hand losing its grip on Merlin’s quivering thigh as he let it fall back, tilting onto both sets of tiptoes to better take Arthur’s last, desperate ruts into his body, crooning and grunting and shooting slick, hot ribbons of come over Arthur’s still jerking fist and even as pleasure crashed through him, his mind was still circling round the words _Too Fast – Unfair – More_ and then Arthur was coming also.

They each moaned as Arthur shoved deep, quaking and jerking in place as he pumped his release into Merlin with shivering, desperate twitches within him and they slumped against the wall, panting and sweaty for the long moments it took for their hearts to slow back down from _painful_.

Arthur’s hands – sticky with sweat, lube and come – smoothed up and down Merlin’s sides from his ribs, over his hips and down his thighs a way, as though he were soothing a skittish horse and Merlin couldn’t help but smile at the unconscious treatment, Arthur’s face still turned, slack and occasionally snuffling, against his nape.

Then, slow and careful, with more than one grunt of pleasure and discomfort from each of them, Arthur withdrew, an odd swallowed sound mostly muffled by Merlin’s hiss of pleasure as he felt a small streak of come follow the action, trickling slightly down his inner thigh.

_“Fuck_.” Merlin managed, his first word that wasn’t Arthur’s name for a good few minutes, before stiffening as, outside the stall, the door banged open and they each fell silent, stiffening.

“Arthur – OI, you in here?” Came Gwaine’s always horrifically caddish tones and (nice guy or not) Merlin could have cheerfully wished him straight to hell. “C’mon, we’ve still got the finale – m’not paying you to get lucky with drunk birds!”

Arthur tensed even further at this and Merlin dropped his forehead back against the wall and let his brain blind him with mental images of the truly astonishing lack of Arthur in his life from this point onwards.

“I’ll be out in a bloody minute – _alright_?” Arthur abruptly bellowed and Merlin became aware of the blond man jerking his shorts back into place and watched (covertly, over his shoulder where Arthur couldn’t see the pained resignation in his eyes) as Arthur snatched up toilet roll to scrub at his hands as Gwaine laughed and left the room.

Slowly, Merlin pulled his t-shirt back into place before, reluctantly, turning back around to fumble for the discarded leg of his jeans and boxers, watching Arthur’s hand clench and release in the periphery of his vision.

“That was – I have to – they need me for...” Arthur ground out, sounding distinctly mortified and Merlin nodded, head still tilted low, expression carefully neutral.

“Yeah, sure – you should go before he comes back.” He said and tried to not recoil in horror as Arthur all but bolted from the stall and Merlin stood a moment, listening to the taps running before heavy, quick footfalls and an almost slammed wide door signalled Arthur’s exit from the room.

Sighing, he straightened up and made to fasten his jeans, suddenly catching sight of his gleaming, _sparkling_ crotch and, remembering Arthur’s equally shining, shimmering skin, he suddenly realised the sodding idiot had used _body glitter_ as lube.

“God _damn_ it.” He muttered sorrowfully and, doing up his fly, he made his way to the sinks to briefly splash himself with cold water before exiting to bribe the nearest bar tender to let him out the staff entrance.

Twenty minutes later saw him face down across his bed, ignoring the impulse that nagged at him, saying he should retrieve his phone from where it and his keys had been dumped on his bedside table and text Gwen to say sorry for bailing out of her party, mid-fucking-strip show.

But he just _couldn’t_.

First he needed to shower, Google whether or not the bloody shimmering body oil Arthur’d slicked them with contained _actual glitter_ , eat, drink water and wallow in abject misery – possibly not in that order and... _Was that his front door?_

He pulled a face, cursing that nagging voice again. He didn’t think he’d been gone long enough for Gwen’s mothering instincts to kick in and set her looking for him to (most likely) pat him on the head and attempt to feed him ice cream to cheer him up, and –

“Hope you don’t mind – I let myself in. You should really keep your spare key somewhere else, anyone who’s _ever_ been to somewhere you’ve lived knows to check under the stone dragon – it’s just asking to get robbed really and in this day and age, _particularly_ in this neighbourhood-“

Merlin rolled over and glared at Arthur as best he could with a distinct fog of orgasm and alcohol still resting heavy on his brain, the blond still distractingly, _UNFAIRLY_ gorgeous where he appeared to have simply thrown jogging bottoms on over his still gleaming, oily and mail clad body and, sneering, said,

“Arthur, not even half an hour ago you fucked me in a bloody public loo – your fucking _glittery_ come is still trickling out of me – so _PLEASE_ tell me you didn’t come here to lecture me on my home security measures... We’re a little _past_ that, wouldn’t you say?”

Arthur’s eyes widened before he dropped his gaze, flushing heavily and Merlin’s rage dissipated as fast as it had been building.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Arthur look so... _vulnerable._

“You left.” He said quietly, stiffly and Merlin gaped at him, an ember of fury reigniting.

“I...? _YOU_ left _FIRST_...” He gabbled, honestly _gobsmacked_ and Arthur’s head came up, a frown marring his aristocratically beautiful features.

“I had to – they need all the dancers for the finale, I – you heard him, you told me to go!”

Merlin sat up, straight and sharp as abruptly a universe where he might have further opportunity to fuck Arthur blind - _and suck on his fingers and kiss his collarbone and swallow his come and ride him all through Titanic like he’d been fantasising the last time the girls bloody made them watch it –_ opened itself up before him and he smiled at Arthur, bright and yeah, probably _daft_ with happiness, and said, “You _didn’t_ want to go?”

Arthur blinked at him a moment before shaking his head, rolling his eyes (to hide his own abruptly _glorious_ smile, Merlin suspected) and saying gently, “You know, you really are an _idiot_ , Merlin. Honestly – if I’d known I’d be fucking someone so mentally deficient tonight...”

“You’d what?” Merlin interjected, leaning back on his elbows and canting his hips slightly,  
unable (and unwilling) to suppress the shiver that told Arthur _exactly_ how much he was still feeling him inside him.

Arthur swallowed, and then wet his lips. “I’d have left you a diagram detailing precisely what I wanted to spend the rest of the night doing to you so you wouldn’t be confused.” He said and promptly _launched_ himself over Merlin, pressing them both back against the bed with a deep, _filthy_ kiss and an almost orgasmic sigh of pleasure as they broke for breath.

“God,” Arthur purred with enough self satisfaction to make Merlin nip him, just to prevent him from getting too smug about it, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was 13.”

Merlin stilled. “The... the kiss or the, the fucking?” He asked, terrified of the answer he might get considering how many of his stained sheets had come courtesy (no pun intended) of watching Arthur training in his and Morgana’s back garden as teenagers.

“Kissing you quiet.” Arthur returned with a decidedly too smug smile before rolling his hips suggestively into Merlin’s. “I’ve wanted to shut you up with my tongue in your mouth all night - for _years_ in fact– the fucking things been more the last few months really.”

“Just a phase then?” Merlin asked archly and moaned when Arthur bit him neatly on his lower  
lip.

“You bloody _wish_.” He slid his tongue between Merlin’s lips and leisurely tasted his tongue in turn, curling it over Merlin’s teeth as he drew back and muttered thickly, “Now, what’s this about my come still sliding out of you?”

A little while later, Merlin’s home phone rang and was ignored, Morgana’s message resounding loudly about the flat as it was recorded.

“Gwen called me,” She said with Pendragon smugness dripping from her tone “and, as neither of you are answering your phones; I’m just going to say _You’re Welcome_.”

Her self-satisfaction was largely ignored, Merlin being splayed across his own bed with his legs forced high across Arthur’s shoulders as he set about spilling _more_ come into him whilst sucking determinedly on his tongue, but vaguely Merlin made a mental note to send her a thank-you note...

...and possibly, a troupe of strippers (bar their finest member of course) because, Merlin reflected as Arthur prodded at his crammed wide hole with his fingers and _groaned_ to find him full of him, it did appear to be the gift that _kept on giving_.

Fin.


End file.
